


Little Bunny Foo-Foo

by Questions3



Series: Prompt Fills [4]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Hobbits, Cute, Female Bilbo Baggins, Pirateking, Shifter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 17:02:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9247133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Questions3/pseuds/Questions3
Summary: Pirateking:Hobbit are called little bunnies because they are shapeshifters too, and Beorn convinces a reluctant Bilbo to run in his other/animal form. Bilbo it quite a handsome (place your animal here) and the dwarves have lots of fun chasing him.... I went a little off script but it was inspired by this prompt.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pirateking](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pirateking/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Prompts for everyone!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1242676) by [Pirateking](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pirateking/pseuds/Pirateking). 



            “Ah, there’s the little bunny, come, get fat on milk and honey,” Beorn announced as Bilbo came out of her bed, hair a mess and eyes gritty, to join her dwarrow and the wizard for breakfast.

            Seeing the clear annoyance in the honey eyes made the shifter smile larger into his large mug of milk as she climbed up grumbling, “I’m not a bunny.”

            Beorn wasn’t dumb, and he had a nose. He knew exactly what Bilbo was. He also knew that her companions did not. Based on their shock upon meeting him and their weariness he could only imagine what they thought their tiny friend was… but they were wrong. And, seeing how they were making use of his home and supplies, why shouldn’t he have some fun while they remain with him?

            So he ignored the grumbling and let the conversation continue around them. His eyes never once straying from the tiny hobbit where she sat across from him, trying to stay as far from the bear as she could it would seem. This only tickled him more, however as his continued contemplation seemed to cause her to twitch were she munched on her meal. Her ears jiggled as much as they could in this form. Her curls seemed to be particularly unsettled as the hairs on her tiny form stood to attention under his gaze. Her nose flared as she scented his interest. And he was interested all right. In every nuance the tiny creature had to offer.

            She’d glance up at him every now and again just to narrow her golden eyes at finding his fixed attentions. Then she’d drink milk and look to find him smiling as he crossed his arms, the smile entirely too knowing as her cheeks and ears began to heat in aggravation. Those pointed ears trying very hard to lay back in aggravation. Picking up a piece of bread drowning in honey she slowly munched the offering as she glared the overlarge beast down from across the way. Sharp little canines flashed as they tore apart her meal, clearly loosing the battle with her instincts.

            In their singular preoccupation with this charming battle of wills they ignored the hum of the dwarrow’s conversation and thus didn’t miss the absence of it as the Company, rather swiftly for themselves, realized the tension building between their grand host and tiny burglar.

            Most were glancing nervously between the pair, Fíli, Kíli, Ori and Glóin going so far as to push their chairs back a mite in anticipation of… something. Some were glaring at their host and fingering their weaponry, anticipating some kind of double cross as their normally docile and peaceful little burglar was _never_ this on edge.

            Thorin, sitting on her left was one great twitch from their beastly host from tearing the hobbit off her seat and throwing her into Nori’s waiting arms where he’d slipped himself behind the tiny lass to scurry out the house. Dwalin, situated in the middle of the table and to the hobbit’s right had Grasper unsheathed and his fist wrapped around Keeper’s hilt. Dori and Balin, across had trained some truly terrifying looks on the bearman. Both seemingly frozen into a statue of contained strength while Bifur was darkly glaring from under the grizzled mess of his hair, growling fit to rival their host’s other form.

            Bofur, sitting next to the wee burglar’s right elbow was the only one focused on Bilbo, thusly the only one noting the sharper look to his wee friend and… was that a wee keening coming from her throat? He’d reached a hand out to temper the lass only to wrench it back at the almost feral golden gaze that flashed through her eyes before the honey color settle and the soft half dimpled smile was back, attempting reassurance before turning direly back to their host. Far from reassured he continued to watch in trepidation, looking to his friends for aid.

            Bombur was happily testing the tinsel strength of the bench under his own pudgy arse.

            Óin was trying to come up with a way to dose their obstinate King without necessarily requesting his cooperation.

            Gandalf was watching from his corner eyes twinkling fit to rival the stars in the heavens.

            Before any of the dwarrow could snap, Beorn chuckled deeply, “What’s the matter wee bunny? The honey not sittin’ well with you?”

            “I’m… _not_ … a bleedin’ **_bunny_** ,” the snarl was something to see to be sure. Even when Thorin was at his worse Bilbo hadn’t looked so _angry_. And he’d been calling her a Halfling the entire trip; something they had been recently informed was less than complimentary.

            Apparently being compared to a fluffy creature that tasted rather well in stew was a fare bit shrewder than being implied to be merely half of something. And their host new it for he was taking an unholy joy in goading their hobbit. As the dwarrow rose to their feet at their friends clear malcontent, now all glaring at their host, Thorin grasped the half– _hobbit_ ’s shoulder in an attempt to calm her, “Bilbo, it’s not worth it.” And wasn’t it hilarious, Thorin bleedin’ Oakenshield being the _sensible_ one.

            When narrowed golden eyes turned harshly on him before snapping back to the bear, plump lips normally politely smiling or laughing at his sistersons’ antics turned thin and pulling back over rather surprisingly sharp teeth snapped at him Thorin damn near lost said appendage. He’d have just a bit too much in common with Azog at that point and it wouldn’t have sat well with him thank you. Rising to her feet, hands flat on the table Bilbo growled to the distraught King, “But it is, because he _knows_ better.”

            “Now, now, _bunny_ , no need to–” before he could finish the laughing comment there was a snarl and a flash of bright red fur _flying_ across the table and right at his neck. The bearman laughed as he dodged the wee specter and the next they all knew there was a behemoth bear in the room roaring at a wee fox not even half the size of his damn front paw.

            Didn’t seem to make no never mind as the red blur raced into and out of paws and under the beast, nipping at the bear’s neck and ruff, needle sharp teeth pinching at the underbelly as she tried to find something soft to cling to. With a roar the beast brought his paw down on where the possessed creature was going making her dodge with lightning speed right into his maw as he, with surprising delicacy nabbed the wee thing in the back of the scruff, picking the snarling, twisting creature up like a wee kit. In the next moment Beorn was man again laughing at the wee spitting thing in his great large grasp, “That’s it my little friend, embrace your wild self.”

            All this happened in seconds, seconds that the dwarrow were left to stare in shock as Thorin, who’d been holding the arm of a hobbit moments ago was left holding the empty rags of hobbit finery that had _not_ done well during their venture. I mean really, this little yellow vest was so dirt encrusted and stained it may as well be called brown and be done with. The white shirt was never to be white again and was so threadbare at this point it was a wonder they weren’t seeing entirely too much of their burglar all the time. And really the state of those pants! Really it ws disgraceful, as the King and leader of this troop it was a poor reflection on him that their smallest member who just so happened to also be their only female was so woefully outfitted.

            “Thorin,” Balin, with an amazing amount of restraint I might add, placed a calming hand on his own where it had taken to balling up his burglar’s clothes rather _violently_. The advisors eyes were wide and… just _tried_ as he glanced from his King to their host and back again, but very tranquil for all that. Because their King wasn’t having quite that level of calm as he stared back at the rest of his Company who’d somehow found his not so internal monologue far more concerning than the fact their burglar was now fluffier than usual, smaller than required and hanging from their host’s massive paw from her scruff. And why they were looking at him like _he’d_ lost _his_ damned mind was beyond him. Even the damned foxy burglar was watching him with blown golden eyes and tilted furry ears as she canted her head to the side in obvious concern.

            With a look around the table he found similar looks on all his men and laughed a bit. Chuckled harder, and maybe a bit higher pitched. Finally his eyes rolled back in his head and he hit the floor.

            Seeing their King had checked out, Balin sighed, rubbed his temples and breathed a moment. Then two. Then he turned a fatherly smile on the wee foxy burglar and inquired, “I don’t suppose you’d be able to change back and perhaps share a story or two with us then my dear?”

            The fox let out a sad little whine, her ears laying flat to her head and her tail tucking up under her hind legs before nodding. Beorn nodded as he moved out of the room with the wee thing, “Aye, I’ll see about fixing her kit seein’ as your King took such umbrage. Wouldn’t want to add to the dwarf’s distress now would we, little bunny?”          

            The growl was low and the bite to his hand was laughed off, as it didn’t even puncture his thick hide. The bastard.

***

            As the pair of skin changers walked off the troop turned accusatory looks to the wizard who merely shrugged and gave them an innocent look of his own, “I did say there was lot more to her than appearances suggest.” And then he continued to puff at his pipe as the dwarrow burst into enraged arguments, benign and unconcerned as ever.

***

            Bilbo came back out a moment later in an over large shirt that had been tied to her with twine, much to Dori’s absolute horror. Before she could get more than three guilty steps forward she was accosted by the Durin scourge, “Why didn’t you tell us you were a skin changer!?”

            “Can you change into anything else?”

            “Can all hobbits do that?”

            “Can you teach us how to do it?”

            “Is that how you snuck past the Trolls?”

            “The Gobblins?”

            “The Elves?”

            “Uncle?”

            “Lads, lads, lads! Please! One at a time,” Bilbo laughed as she found Fíli and Kíli at least weren’t going to abandon her because of her peculiarity. Smiling up at the twin looks of eager curiosity she reached forward and tweaked the lad’s braids before sneaking a timid glance at the rest of the company.

            Dwalin snorted at the glance and reached between the lads and dragged the lass into their midst, plopping her down in the middle of the company and grunted, “Right then, lass, story time.”

            Smiling softly at the gruff guard she nodded, “Well, to answer your questions, no, I cannot change into anything else. I am a fox as my mother before me and her mother before her and so on and so forth. There’s always been a fox shifter in the Took family each generation. I cannot teach you as it was a gift given to hobbits during their Wander years by our Mother to protect us from the Wilds…”

***

            Thorin, upon waking, was groggy and unsure why he was feeling as though the natural world was out to get him. But he assumed the feeling would pass. He rose to his feet and went in search of his Company. Moving to the porch of the skinchanger’s home found the queerest sight of his sad little life.

            His company was sitting about as was their wont, tending their wares and tack just fine. Óin was tending some sores on Dwalin’s back where the fires from the orc attack had licked him a bit too closely. Balin and Dori were discussing who knew what, Dori showing his work every now and again on something that looked like a shirt, though by the time the dwarf got done it looked to be some kind of dress perhaps. At Dori’s feet sat Ori, scribbling in his book once again, every so often looking up and asking Balin, his Master, a question or other before turning back to his task Bifur who was sharpening his boar spear and talking his odd dialect to Bofur about something or other while he carved away at spare bits of wood. Glóin was sitting chatting with Bombur as he ate, probably about their children as the pair were the only fathers in the lot. Gandalf was on the Porch puffing on his pipe and silently greeted him as he came outside.

            Before anything could be said or asked a tiny red blur came streaming from a field to the left, chased by his nephews, both laughing uproariously as they tried to catch at the tail of the tiny fox. As the tiny creature came close to the porch it used the railing to jump and bounce over the lad’s heads and take off in the opposite direction. Before she’d made it more than a few feet, however, she’d been taken up by Nori’s agile hands where he’d been coming up behind the lads, followed closely by the bearman, in his bear form. The lads instantly started claiming foul play as the bear seemed to sulk and Nori chuckled as he held the fox up in his arms like a wee bairn and looked down at the creature where she wagged her fluffy tail cheerfully and yipped before licking the dwarf’s nose. Surprised he dropped her and the chase was on once more.

            As the four of them disappeared into the fields again Thorin blinked and watched them go. Seeing his King Balin raised a white brow and asked, “Thorin?” and then he sighed as the King laughed and then fell back to the ground. Hopefully this wouldn’t be a new habit of his because at this rate they’d never make it to the mountain.


End file.
